


The Way You Sleep

by colourscat



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Underage Sex, but not really, i am so sorry everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9378965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourscat/pseuds/colourscat
Summary: three times Achilles wakes up before Patroclus and one time Patroclus doesn't wake up at all or the unnecessary angst I like to put everyone through





	

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry everyone this is trash

_i._

Achilles was coming back from one of his usual visits to his mother. It had gone as they always did, she would ask about his training and his life with Peleus, and he would answer. Recently though, she couldn’t stop talking about him going to live in Mount Pelion, about him starting his training as a warrior. He liked the idea of him and Patroclus alone, together. He quickly shook his head, trying to ignore this particular thread of mind.

 

But now that he had started, it seemed as he couldn’t stop. Without thinking, he ran to the place where he usually went when he wanted to be alone, he was unbelievably turned on and he couldn’t stop thinking about his therapon. When he finally reached his destination, he quickly took off his tunic and sat down.

 

His mind was full of images of Patroclus. Patroclus’ hands traveling upon his skin, gently feeling his chest and spreading kisses upon his neck, his deep brown eyes opened wide and shining with lust. Achilles would flip them over so that he was on top, and would kiss the tan warm skin that he loved so much.

 

He continued imagining all the things he would do to Patroclus, until he came. When he was done, he quickly cleaned himself and got dressed; shame and guilt clouding his thoughts.

 

He knew that Patroclus didn’t love him in that way, that he was just too loyal and kind for his own good, and that if Achilles were to mention it, Patroclus would try and go with it to amuse him; but Achilles didn’t want that, he wanted his friend to be happy even if it wasn’t with him. And even if Patroclus did love him, they couldn’t do anything. Thetis was always watching him, and she hated Patroclus; if she ever found out that they had anything other than a platonic relationship, she would hurt Patroclus, and Achilles didn’t want that.

 

As he walked into his bedroom, ready to greet Patroclus, he realised that the boy was still asleep. He smiled at the image before him, Patroclus was sleeping on his side, the covers were thrown to the floor, probably discarded because of the heat. And as he slept, soft snores were escaping his mouth. Achilles approached him as quietly as possible and threaded a hand through his thick brown hair, softly petting him in a soothing way.

 

‘Achilles’ he froze, stopping completely and waiting for the boy to give any indications of being awake. When he realised that the other was probably just sleep talking, he felt a wave of relief washing over him. He smiled, at least Patroclus dreamt of him just as much as he did.

 

_ii._

Sunlight was streaming through the window, painting everything in the room with a slight golden tint, making it look breath-taking; but by far the most impressive sight to behold was Patroclus. He was still asleep, making him seem slightly younger than his 16 years of age. His dark curly hair fell around his face, obscuring his features and contrasting with the white bed.

 

Achilles couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of him; Patroclus tended to wake up before him (probably because Achilles had the habit of going to bed later than him, preferring to stare at his lover over sleeping) so in the rare occasions when he got to wake him up by his kisses, Achilles couldn’t help but feel blessed by the gods.

 

Unable to help himself, he moved closer to the other boy, and buried his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the intoxicating mix that was Patroclus. He was getting restless and wanted to wake him up in order to be able to move to more interesting activities, but he looked so peaceful and beautiful that Achilles couldn’t bring himself to wake him and ruin the perfect picture.

 

For Achilles, the greatest tragedy in all of Greece was how underrated Patroclus was. In his mind, there was no one as exquisite as his lover, not even the Gods themselves, if Patroclus allowed him to, he would worship him over any other deity; the ground that was touched by the sole of Patroclus’ feet was just as sacred as any temple. If Patroclus allowed him to, he would praise his whole body as the night passed and whisper prayers against his skin, for the only wish he had was for Patroclus to remain there with him forever.

 

As he looked up at him again, he could see his eyelids twitching, a clear sign that Patroclus was waking up; he smiled again at the warm feeling forming at the pit of his stomach and realised that _this,_ this was what he was made for.

Not for killing or for war, no, surely the reason why he was put in this Earth was to love Patroclus completely. His hands were made for stroking his hair and his arms for carrying him when he was tired. Achilles smiled and pressed their noses together, being careful as to not be too forceful; his whole existence being dedicated to Patroclus, he liked the thought.

 

_iii._

‘Patroclus’ Achilles said with a smile in his face and an over-enthusiastic tone in his voice as he entered their tent. His face instantly softened as he saw his lover fast asleep, sitting on that chair of his that he loved so much. He probably fell asleep while waiting for Achilles to return to him. Achilles walked up to him slowly and lifted him up easily, as he was carrying him Patroclus pressed himself closer to him and sighed, making the warm feeling in Achilles’ stomach return. No matter how many times they held each other, it never failed to marvel him how he got to have this.

 

As he gently laid Patroclus down on their bed, he began to stir.

‘Achilles, you’re here’ he slurred, his voice still thick from sleep as he attempted to sit down. Achilles was quick to hush him and push him back down, placing a kiss to his forehead.

‘Go back to sleep, _philtatos_. It’s okay, I’m here’ Patroclus only nodded slightly before closing his eyes and letting sleep carry him away. Achilles could feel the soft smile forming in his face as he watched his beloved.

 

It was truly a miracle how Patroclus could remain so…pure and untainted by all the war. Every day that passed, he could feel and see war taking another piece of him and of his soldiers, changing them into war machines, only going through the motions and getting used to death and decay surrounding them. Everyone but Patroclus. He remained as beautiful and ethereal as he did the day they arrived to Troy. If it weren’t for him, Achilles is sure he would be like the rest of them, like Agamemnon, thriving on his thirst for blood and vengeance.

 

Achilles knew what made him immortal; it was his mother’s godly blood running through his veins. It was his feet and their speed, it was his hair and the way it shone in the sunlight. But Patroclus, Patroclus was what made him mortal, what made him human. And Achilles would thank the gods every day for letting him have him, for allowing him happiness in the war.

 

He stepped away from their bed and took off his armour, grabbing the small tub full of water and the cloth that Achilles was sure Patroclus had laid out for him before he fell asleep. He scrubbed at the blood and tried to remember why he was participating in the war.

 

He returned to bed and laid down next to Patroclus, taking him in his arms and gently pressing his chest against the others back. Achilles knew that they didn’t have much time together, that sooner or later he would have to kill Hector. But for now, all he cared about was that he had at least another day to spend next to him. He then realised that no matter how much time, and how many days he got to spend next to Patroclus, it would never be enough. He would always long for more.

 

_iv._

As he awoke, he could feel how everything was wrong. The warm chest that he was so used to holding was not warm, but cold and lifeless; the heartbeat that used to lull him to sleep and comfort him every night was gone, leaving only a gaping absence in its place. Achilles could feel the tears escaping his eyes yet again. He held tighter onto Patroclus willing him to move, to speak, to do _anything_ to show him that he was alive.

 

A wave of desperation hit him, Patroclus couldn’t be dead, it just wasn’t possible for him to leave him behind. He harshly moved, so that he was on top of him. Achilles couldn’t believe his eyes, what was once soft and beautiful brown skin was now a sickening shade of grey, what was once the most beautiful pair of eyes that Achilles had ever seen was now an empty reflection of himself.

 

He cried out loud, pulling at his hair. He gently pressed kisses onto Patroclus skin, all the way from his jaw to his chest, stopping at the point where a heartbeat should be heard. Achilles pressed his head onto the soft skin, willing his ears to listen to the very familiar sound that was Patroclus’ heartbeat, but he heard nothing. He laid down again, holding his lovers’ corpse the way he always used to do it, and fought the urge to sleep.

 

He couldn’t understand how he was still alive, he didn’t know who’s heart was inside his chest beating, because his had been ripped apart the moment that Patroclus closed his eyes, never to open them again. And for what would probably be the last time, he buried his face in Patroclus’ hair- he still smelled like himself, like figs and sea water with something that was undeniably him-and tried to imagine that they were still boys living in mount Pelion, that they had no worries and that Patroclus wasn’t dead, but sleeping. That they would soon be called to work by Chiron.

 

‘Patroclus’ he would say, elongating every syllable of his name, tasting the way they rolled of his tongue. And Patroclus would look him in the eye and smile in the way that he always used to.

 

Maybe in another life they were happy, maybe in a different universe or in a different lifetime they would get to be together. Achilles liked to think so.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao sorry mom


End file.
